It’s no secret that a lot of people have a sort of fascination with cults, and I’m no exception—though I don’t normally read fiction about cults.

But with this one? First, I read some positive reviews about it from people whose opinion I respect, and that goes a long way. Second … have you read the summary?! I’m a big sucker for duplicity and lies and things not being as they seem. Plus, the idea of After the Fire being written from the perspective of a cult member was really appealing.

I was also really in a thriller mood, okay? It happens every now and then, because after all the death and war and fire of YA fantasy, sometimes you want … more death and fire?

I don’t know, but this fit the bill beautifully with both the subject matter and the way it was told, with everything unraveling bit by bit.

Content warning for abuse (physical and psychological) and mildly graphic depictions of death.

*A big thanks to Sourcebooks and NetGalley for the eARC in exchange for an honest, unbiased review.*

 

❧ The story is based on the real-life events of Waco and the tragedy that ensued there, but it does so tactfully, while remaining true to the experience of those who have been in cults.

Or at least it rings true, though granted, I’ve never been in that situation myself. The story is told from the perspective of Moonbeam, who is a 17-year-old who has basically grown up in the cult and has gone through a rather magnificent character arc of her own.

Hill deals with the subject matter honestly—pulling no punches when describing the punishments, the way a cult leader gains and maintains control—while still portraying a community that Moonbeam sees as her home, as safe from the dangers of the outside world, as being “right” when everyone else is wrong.

The story really drives home just how deep and pervasive the beliefs are, and that’s the most key element of it: the cult members believe everything wholeheartedly. And why wouldn’t they? Father John is persuasive, and his logic makes sense. That was probably the biggest thing that struck me about this book, is just how much everything made sense and I could see why people would buy into it, while still being disgusted at their actions.

❧ The story is actually told with a split timeline, with the present being after the fire with Moonbeam in therapy and the past being, well, before the fire. Duh.

Sometimes this can be confusing, but this was done so well, I thought, particularly because there’s such a stark contrast, not only in the main character but in her setting. The world of therapy and doctors and safety is so vastly different than her life in the cult, and pairing them together really highlighted the differences between the two.

Most importantly, the therapy in this is handled beautifully and shown in a positive light—just what Moonbeam needs when she needs it, and nothing more or less than that.

My favorite parts were actually the dynamics of the therapy: the way Dr. Hernandez was cognizant and not in the least bit dismissive of anything Moonbeam said or asked, and especially the interplay between Moonbeam and Agent Carlyle (who is easily one of my favorite characters in this).

What’s more, Dr. Hernandez and Agent Carlyle represent the “normal person’s” reaction to hearing about life in a cult—a lot of times, even, they mirrored my own knee-jerk reactions to the details—and what made this so important was the way Moonbeam reacted to their reactions.

Empathy is hard, yo. It’s really easy to pass judgment. I get it. Spilling tea and throwing shade are my two favorite hobbies. But the exchanges between three characters remind the reader that these things were real for Moonbeam, and, more than that, they were normal and as far as she had known, there was nothing wrong with them. I thought this part was so important, because it was a constant reminder to stop and think from her perspective instead of just reacting.

❧ Moonbeam’s character arc is AMAZING.

The first time we see her character is at the very beginning, during the fire. At that point she’s terrified (obviously), but she seems pretty capable. What we don’t see until flashbacks is the obedient girl who somehow ended up in that situation.

Moonbeam’s transformation happens in spurts and fits during the flashbacks, in teensy, insidious thoughts that eventually take root and bloom.

I can’t actually get too much into it without giving anything away, so suffice it to say that I liked her character to start with, but by the end, I was definitely:

❧ I had figured out about 95% of the ending before I was far into the novel—but that last 5%? Oof. That last 5% got me.

It’s predictable is what I’m saying. Which may seem like a really bad idea for a thriller, but it totally worked, because the important part wasn’t how the story ended, but the journey to get there. So I was more than happy to take the scenic route to a predictable ending.

I was SO FREAKING SURE that I knew how it would turn out, particularly relating to one character who shall remain nameless. BUT I WAS SO WRONG.

I still haven’t forgiven myself. Or the author. I mourned for daysssss. Actual footage of me reading the last half of the book, trying to decide whether I was right or not in my assumption about this character:

❧ The writing is an easy read, and the story is anything but.

It pushes the envelope and really makes you stop and think. There were so many times that I was so mad I wanted to throw the book. And then I laughed. And then I awwwed. And then I started plotting the death of a character who clearly deserved it, okay? Homicide is not wrong if they deserve it and you don’t get caught. It wasn’t long until I realized the therapy sessions weren’t just helpful for Moonbeam, but they were a necessary lull in all the emotions I felt, and as Moonbeam sussed through her reactions, I was able to come up for a breather and consider what sorts of emotions I had just been bombarded with, too.

Have you read After The Fire? Were you alive during Waco, and do you remember hearing about it?